


It's Time For Me To Fall Apart

by anathemically



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Andy Hurley is an Angel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frank Iero Is A Little Shit, Gerard Way is a Sweetheart, Homophobia, Joe Trohman is an Asshole, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Andy Hurley/Joe Trohman, Protective Gerard Way, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vampire!Pete, Vampires, Werewolf Joe Trohman, and leah parmelee, and natalie ballard, and to secure my place in hell, author!mikey, serial killer/author au, sorry but also not really, this is a bag of ass ngl, vampire hunter!pete, vampire!Gerard, werewolf!Ray, written for sarah cates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:57:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemically/pseuds/anathemically
Summary: Mikey is an author. Pete is a killer. It's meant to be.Title From 'Miss Missing You' by Fall Out Boy :)
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 26





	1. Oh, I'm There Baby (Short)

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: not saying I expect this to get attention, but as with any bandom fic, please do not send this to any of them. don't mention this or any fanfics to them. don't force them to experience our wierd fan shit. i'm writing this solely to make my friends laugh :)

“I’m leaving!” Mikey called half-heartedly, in the vague direction of the stairs. He wasn’t sure if anyone had heard him, but he didn’t really care.

“WAIT!” A voice called. A herd of elephants was heard bounding across the floor of Gerard’s room, and Mikey’s eyes followed the sound across the ceiling. As the sound reached the stairs, Frank appeared, panting and crazed. “Wait!” He clambered down the stairs, almost falling, before landing at Mikey’s feet. He pulled a 20$ out of his pocket and shoved it in Mikey’s hand. “Spicy Cheez-Its, Peace Teas, and Ray wants ice cream.”

“What kind of ice cream?” Mikey asked, impatiently. 

“WHAT KIND OF ICE CREAM?” Frank yelled, leaning back towards the stairs. Mikey winced, regretting having said anything at all. 

“GET THE STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE ONE FROM BEN AND JERRY’S! AND PISTACHIO!” Ray called from upstairs. Frank offered an awkward smile and stuffed another five in Mikey’s hand. 

“‘Kay thanks! Don’t forget- spicy Cheez-Its, 4 Peace Teas, and ice cream.” He gave another cheesy smile as if to make up for the inconvenience (it didn’t), flashed a thumbs-up as he walked away, and bounded up the stairs again on all fours, like a kid. Mikey almost laughed, but he didn’t. 

As he stepped out of the front door, the dreary sunlight still hurt his eyes from behind the grey clouds. He grabbed his bike, and as he hopped on and started toward the grocery store, he whispered to himself, “What the fuck is a Peace Tea?”


	2. It's Really Quite Alarming 'Cause I'm Such An Awful Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet-cute.

“Oh, that’s a Peace Tea.” He muttered as he grabbed four from the shelf and shut the fridge door. He checked his basket and saw he had everything Frankie had asked for- spicy Cheez-Its, Peace Teas, two kinds of ice cream-, but what was he forgetting? 

Oh, of course. What he came here for. He looked up and around, until he saw it- a earth-toned sign directing him towards the deli, on the complete opposite side of the store. Fantastic. He almost laughed again when he looked up and saw a stranger looking just as confused as he was. At least he wasn’t alone.

As he made his (long) way to the deli, he saw the same stranger from going the same way he was. He smiled. Fate you predictable hand. Eventually, he arrived at the deli, and curbed left for the small section next to it- the butcher. There was no line, so he moved to slip in, but someone cut in front of him right as he arrived. Mikey looked down to avoid impending glares. Mikey wanted to tell the guy to move it, that he was there first, and to kiss his ass, but confrontation’s not really his thing and this guy was definitely much stronger than he was (Mikey hadn’t even looked at the guy, he just knew most everyone was stronger than him). Upon looking up, Mikey realized he recognized him- he was the confused stranger. 

A cute confused stranger. Tan, hazel eyes, black hair falling almost in his face, a vibe of anger and beauty. He had his hood of his grey hoodie up and stood with his hands in his pockets, gently rocking from the ball to the heel of his feet, dressed in black sip-on Vans. Mikey could only see the side of his face from where he stood, but as he stared, the stranger’s eyes met his for a half second before Mikey’s darted to the floor. In that half second of burning connection (at least on Mikey’s end), however, Mikey thought he saw a smirk.

Fuck. He could feel his face heating up at a smirk he wasn’t even sure he saw. He heard the stranger’s voice as he ordered a litre of pig’s blood and it made Mikey’s pulse quicken- wait. A litre of pig’s blood? Why would he be ordering pig’s blood? He had half a mind to be wierded out, but then he remembered he was ordering pig’s blood too. 

To his defense, he was an author. Well, aspiring author. His book, a story about a band of rebels fighting against a tyrannical corporation in an apocalyptic California, was to be illustrated by his older brother, Gerard. Gerard could draw anything without a reference. Mikey couldn’t write without a physical copy. So, he was buying pig’s blood, so he could see its properties and write accurately.

Not that it mattered. To anyone else, he was just a wierd kid buying pig’s blood. The cute, wierd stranger paid, flashed him another smirk, and walked away. As Mikey approached the counter, his heart was racing. He definitely saw that one. He ordered his pig blood still in a daze, and didn’t even notice when the deli worker spoke to him.

“Hey, kid!” Mikey snapped back to reality. “The guy in front of you paid for you. You can take this back.” He handed Mikey’s cash back. He hadn’t even realized he’d paid. “Two litres a’ pig blood in a row. What are the kids up to these days?” Muttered the deli worker as Mikey walked away. He stood in line to pay for the rest of his items- well, Frank’s items- when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and of course, there stood the cute stranger. The cute, beautiful, smirking stranger. 

“Hey.” He started, still rocking on his heels. 

“H-hey! Hey.” Mikey spluttered out. 

“So..” The stranger stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down. “Do you wanna go get dinner tonight? I paid for you.. For your pig’s blood, y’know, so you kind of owe it to me.” He smiled at his own joke. Mikey opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger quickly began to stutter out a correction. “That was a joke. I was joking. Of course you don’t owe me anything, but I was just-”

“Are you asking me out?” Mikey asked, quietly. He didn’t believe it.

“What? No- I’m not- I’m not gay.” The stranger said hurriedly. Mikey’s soul dropped. Every organ in his body fell and his blood froze. His eyes went glassy and he’s pretty sure he turned white. Stupid, stupid, stupid Mikey, he just embarrassed himself in front of an entire grocery store and everyone’s looking at him and why would he assume someone like this guy want to go out with someone like him? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid- “I’m kidding. Chill out, you look like a doe in headlights. Yes, I’m asking you out.”

Mikey sighed and felt the color return to his world. He smiled, and then laughed. Actually laughed. Then he nodded a bit too enthusiastically, blushed, looked down, took a Dum Dum wrapper with the stranger’s number on it, and paid for his stuff. As the stranger was walking out the door, he turned back to Mikey, and gave a cheesy disaffected nod. “Pete.” He called.

Mikey returned the nod, and, fighting off another viral blush, returned: “Mikey.” Pete smiled with beautiful, white, straight, vampire teeth. Wait, what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse my excessive use of passive voice


	3. Trade Baby Blues For Wide-Eyed Browns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date. Mikey fails at being indiscreet, Pete fails at being chill. Ray fails at nothing because he's perfect.
> 
> Or, cute date and Mikey pissing off his brother.

Pete Wentz hated himself. He looked in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. He hated the way he felt in his skin and he hated the way his neck strained constantly from holding his head just above water. The only thing that brought him peace was killing those like him- vampires.

Yeah, vampires. Not sparkly teen drama stars, but real people- young, old, whatever- whose ’s brains are addicted to the sticky sweet lifekeeper- blood. 

Vampires aren’t what you think they are. They aren’t evil ghouls with weird accents and they aren’t sparkly men posing as teenagers. They’re normal people. You probably go to school with one, or work with one. You might get rung up at Target or passed on the street by one. Hell, you might even live with one. 

All it takes is one bite. A vampire sinks its teeth into your flesh and it’s all over. They take your blood, and your brain senses the loss. It’s almost like you can smell the blood you’ve lost, taste it in the air, and sense it in the warm bodies of everyone you pass. You crave it. This wouldn’t be so bad- plenty of people live with addictions- if blood was able to steal any other way than it was. But it isn’t, so Pete suffers.

14 year old, freshly bitten Pete tried to set limits for himself. He’d only drink from other vampires- people who he’d seen do evil. However, a few rounds of that made him quickly and painfully realize that doing so only made it worse- the more they lose, the more they crave. His outlook was flipped when he saw the product of his bite- someone he’d bitten, a through-and-through asshole before, piercing deep into the body of a young girl and sucking greedily from the broken arteries in the open night air of a suburban street. As Pete watched in traumatized repose from the alley across the street, the young girl cried out, but as the vampire continued, she quieted. 

From that day, Pete decided he hated vampires. Including himself. He found a group of vampire hunters and, after a year of begging and convincing them that he wasn’t there to spy, they let him join. He now spends his days killing the most violent of vampirical predators and trying to convince himself it was redemption.

But, as of now, Pete wasn’t thinking about that part of himself. He was more focused on the way he looked- like shit- and the fact that he had a date with a gorgeous stranger in an hour. 

Pete decided that same fourteenth year that he wouldn’t drink human blood. He couldn’t bring himself to worsen existing violence or to start more, so he drinks animal blood. It’s gross, he knows, but it’s all he can manage. Unfortunately, just as a placebo to a xanax, animal blood doesn’t give quite the same high as human blood and Pete can’t live off it. And yet, he was.

Barely. He was lean in the worst way, all skin, muscles, bones, and pretty pretty eyes. He passed out all the time, and couldn’t stand up too fast. He lived in eternal physical illness, but it was better than worsening the mental illness by burying it in guilt.

So how could he fix it? What could he do in the next 45 minutes that would fix the mess that was his appearance before someone as beautiful as Mikey had to hang out with him for an extended period of time?

He didn’t quite have time to figure it out before his phone buzzed. A text from Mikey- a new one added to their quickly compiled hundred.

_  
Mikey From Grocery Store: don’t worry about money or anything- i’ve got dinner covered! Just meet me at the park :^)  
_  
He couldn’t even text Mikey back, he was too busy taking apart his reflection. He felt underdressed and overconfident, which was a laugh because he had no confidence at all. He was trying to focus on his own reflection, when something disturbed him.

“You look great.” Pete’s eyes were ripped away from his reflection in the mirror and to the figure in the doorway. “Really, Pete. It’s gonna go great.” Patrick entered the room, using a hand on Pete’s bony shoulder to turn his smiling face back to the mirror. Patrick brushed some hair out of Pete’s eyes, fixed up his red scarf, and locked eyes with his reflection. Pete turned around, exhaling a shaking breath as he reconnected their gaze. 

“Patrick, I..” Pete started, but trailed off as Patrick bit his lip.

Patrick Stump was a being of purity. Pure anger, pure heartache, pure joy. He was similar to Apollo in his golden hair, captivating eyes, and emotional fire that burned unevenly, and similar to Enjolras in his commanding voice, leading spirit and apparent lack of any hamartia. He formed his band of vampire hunters after being attacked by his girlfriend in his junior year. He quickly realized that love doesn't last, and neither should sympathy. Andy Hurley, another band nerd junior, and Joe Trohman, and alt-punk wannabe senior, started hunting vampires as a team and haven't quit since. Patrick was everything Pete wanted to be, and everything he wasn't. Patrick differed from him in one tragic, final way: he loved Pete.

Pete took in a burning sip of air and leaned in, connecting his lips to the shorter boy’s. Patrick froze in surprise, but he softened quickly and rested his forearms around Pete’s neck. Pete, sad and wanton, bit Patrick’s lower lip in a plea for entrance. Patrick was about to oblige when he changed his mind and turned his head. Pete kept on his mission, however, laying sickly sweet bruises to Patrick’s jaw, neck, collarbone, and wherever he could reach. 

“Pete.” Patrick tried, quietly, trying to ignore how much he missed the feeling. “Pete!” He repeated, this time a little bit louder. “You don’t want this.”

“I do.” Pete attempted, but knew it was worthless. He pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder, and laid his head upon it.

“No you don’t. You-you’re hurting, Pete, and I’m not. You’re latching onto me and I can’t let you self destruct like this.” 

“Patrick, please.” His voice was small and desperate. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Hey, Pete, hey hey hey,” Patrick said, standing Pete upright and taking his face into his hands. “You’re going on a date. You’re going on a date with a guy you like and you’re going to have a great time. You look exquisite and you are going to be fine.” Pete simply smiled. 

He appreciated Patrick more than words can say. He was always a mentor for him- a year older, a century wiser. He took him in when he was a scared, newly turned teenage runaway. Patrick managed to turn the worlds biggest flight risk into a conventionally useful 19-year-old. Sure, Pete fell madly in love, and Patrick appreciated the sentiment, but as Grantaire loved, admired, and and venerated Enjolras, Pete’s feelings were merely an unconscious manifestation of touch starvation and self hatred. Patrick, in a last fleeting act of affection, believed him. Sure, he had feelings for Pete, but he was smart enough to know they weren’t worth it. Pete did like Mikey, he was going to have a great time, Patrick did think he looked exquisite and he was going to be fine. 

Patrick kissed his cheek, re-fixed Pete’s scarf, and left the room. Pete sighed, glared at the mirror, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and set off for the park, all the while repeating Patrick’s words like an invocation to the muse:

“You are going to be fine.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The 3-mile walk to the park wasn’t nearly as bad as Pete imagined. Sure, he was queasy by the end, but when he saw Mikey bound up to him, looking like a rose, he felt instantly better. He had on a white Dookie album tee shirt, a pale blue sweater that was just a bit too big hanging off his shoulders, and blue jeans clinging to his waist.

“Hey!” He hummed. “You look great.” The smile was audible in his voice, and Mikey’s smile made Pete feel okay in a way he never had before.

“You do too.” Pete ran his eyes over the lanky figure in front of him once more. His hair, long and brown, wasn’t falling over his glasses as specifically as it was earlier. It was looser, tucked behind his ear, letting his pretty brown eyes take center stage from where they hid behind his black and white glasses. “Really. You look beautiful.”

Mikey turned a shade of red Pete had never seen.

“So, do you wanna go sit? I got here kinda early, I misjudged the bike ride and all, so I set up a picnic.”

“Aw, Mikes, you didn’t have to.” Pete’s eyes found the set-up, and it was so charming that Pete’s heart melted. “I would love to.” The pair walked over to and sat down on the blue and white checkered blanket that was spread across the floor of the old white gazebo. Nobody was really supposed to go there- it used to be a public park, but closed and it was now overgrown with wildflowers. The old gazebo was white, with glass windows warping and paint chipping. 

Mikey had brought a basket with a few plastic battery-operated candles, sandwiches, champagne, baby oranges and two cherry suckers. Pete could tell the effort that was put into it, and thought it was unbearably adorable. “A bit much for a first date, huh?” Pete asked from his spot on the blanket. He was laying on his side, propped on his elbow, facing up at Mikey, who was seated criss-cross across from him.

Mikey laughed. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“You mean better then staring at me in a grocery store while buying pig blood?”

Mikey shoved his shoulder playfully, returning to that now-familiar shade of red. “You bought pig blood too.”

“Yeah, but look at me and look at you. I’m a creepy skinny emo dude in a goddamn bright red birch scarf. I look like I would be buying pig blood. You’ve got those big doe eyes, you’re like a fuckin’ Disney princess. What’re you buying pig blood for?”

“I’m an author. Well, trying to be, at least.” He took another drink of his champagne, directly from the bottle, almost as if to attempt to hide his growing blush. “I’m writing this story, and- and my brother is illustrating it. There’s like, battles and blasters and future shit, but I didn’t know how blood like, acts, y’know? I felt like I was writing it wrong, so I bought some so I could see what it's really like, and so I could write good.”

“That is the cutest reason anyone could ever want to buy pig blood, like, ever.” Pete laughed. “So like, people die in your book?” Mikey nodded from, once again, behind the bottle. ”It's hard to picture you writing about bloody deaths." The smile was evident in his voice, as was the alcohol. "Alright, okay, um, if you absolutely had to kill someone but you couldn’t get caught, how would you do it?”

“When would you ever be able to kill someone and get caught?” Mikey said, his voice laced with a smile. “But, um, I think I would- definitely an air shot between the toes. Like, an empty syringe, pulled all the way back, so when you did the like, shot thing, like to give them a shot, it would mimic the symptoms of a heart attack.” 

“Why do you know that? I love that you know that.” Pete asked, still grinning. His heart and body felt warm and comfortable, as if Mikey was a place he'd been many times before. “You should kiss me.” Said Pete, leaning closer to Mikey. Mikey, smiling with a beauty that was almost cruel, leaned in too. 

“Should I?” He asked airily. He leaned in even closer. 

“Yeah, you should.” Murmured Pete as he closed the gap. As Pete’s lips moved against Mikey’s in a familiar set of affairs, but it was different this time. Pete didn’t feel sad or guilty or apologetic. He had no reason to. He was kissing someone who actually wanted to kiss him, and it was so intoxicating he actually managed to forget himself.

Pete pulled back and looked away. “I’m sorry, Mikey, I..” Pete apologized habitually, but was, for the first time unable to find something to be sorry for.

Mikey forced his stare into Pete’s, pulling his eyes from off the ground. When they were fully facing each other, Mikey (to Pete’s surprise) let out an awkward laugh. Not a mocking, mean-spirited, you-really-thought-I-would-love-someone-secondhand-like-you laugh, but a purely happy laugh. “What’re you apologizing for?”

"I don't know. I really don't know." Pete replied, beginning to laugh too. Eventually, they were both laughing, and neither remembered why.

"It's getting late." Mikey sighed, cheeks red and sore from the persistent smile.

"Yeah." They quietly packed up the basket and walked back to Mikey's bike. "You sure you aren't too drunk for that?"

"I am not drunk." Mikey insisted as he began to pedal, instantly falling directly over. Pete lost it, laughing belligerently as he helped Mikey up. Mikey stood, wobbly, against Pete as the pair attempted to walk back to the gazebo with a straight face. They were almost there when an SUV pulled into the park. "Ray!"

"Who's Ray?" Pete asked, confused. 

"That's Ray, ding dong." Mikey laughed, pushing Pete's face gently in the direction of the car. "He's my brothers frest biend. No, wait." He paused, knitting his eyebrows in thought. "My brother's best friend. Yeah. It's Ray!" The car door shut and a boy stepped out.

He was tall, sort of lanky, with long curly hair and brightly colored shoes. "Hey, Mikey." He called. His voice was high and friendly. 

"Hi, Ray!"

"Gee sent me to get you. He said it was late to be out."

"Yeah, it like totally is late." He had draped himself around Pete's neck, who was standing silently and awkwardly.

"Who's this?" Ray asked, slightly awkward.

"Oh! Um, this is.. this is-" Pete and Mikey made eye contact and Pete cracked a smile, causing Mikey to smile, which made both of them start laughing. "Stop laughing- stop!" Grinned Mikey, pressing a finger over Pete's lips. "This is Pete. He's my date and he is super hot. And do not tell him, but I think that I'm gonna ask for, like, a second date. And a third. And a lot."

"Hi, Pete." Ray waved awkwardly. "Why don't you guys get in the car, and I'll drive you guys home?"

That seemed to appease the pair, as they got to work on getting in the car. Ray sighed and grabbed Mikey's bike, putting it in the back.

Ray returned to the door, but when he looked back, Mikey and Pete were gone. He quickly located them a few feet away. Pete was throwing up in a bush, and Mikey was rubbing his back. "Aw, Pete, you can't even hold champagne. Maybe I won't call you back." Pete groaned a "fuck you," but was smiling. He stood up, straightened himself out, and got in the car, pulling Mikey up by his hand.

"Aw, sick. I hope you’re okay, man. Don't let your boyfriend throw up in my car, Mikey." Ray commented. "I figured you would be a bit out of it, so I brought you guys water and aspirin and stuff." Ray was too sweet.

They both accepted the water and Pete pocketed the aspirin for the morning. Ray drove quietly to the Way house, only humming along to the guitar part of some song Pete didn't know. Eventually, Mikey took off his seatbelt and lazily began to mouth at Pete's neck, until he fell asleep laying on him. Ray took notice and decided not to ask Pete for an address. Eventually, they pulled up to the house.

"Oh, um-" Pete began, confused.

"Don't worry about it man. Mikey's room is second on the left upstairs. Gerard and Frankie- brother, brother's boyfriend- are on the couch watching a movie, and I'll probably be there too. It's no big deal."

"Are you sure? I don't wanna intrude or anything-"

"It's fine, believe me. Unless you don't wanna stay, which is okay, but if you do you can." Ray offered a sweet smile despite the late hour, and Pete decided he would rather not walk home half drunk. "I can carry Mikey up if you don't want to."

"I think I'll be okay. Thanks for everything, man." Ray accepted the thanks and Pete got Mikey out of the car. Ray led Pete and the sleeping Mikey into the house upon entering, a boy with bright red hair looked up at the door, and upon seeing Pete with Mikey moved to stand up. A brown-haired boy with piercings put a nonchalant hand on his chest, sitting him back down.

"Just up there, second on the left." Ray whispered, pointing up the stairs. As Pete made his labored ascent, he could hear the boys arguing.

"Toro, who the hell is that going to sleep in my little brother's room?"

"It's Mikey's date, uh, Pete, I think? It'll be okay, Gee. Mikey's too sleepy to do anything and the guy seems harmless."

"Mikey's a big kid, Gee. He's an adult and can make adult choices. Besides, at least he won't be such a fuckin' loner now that he has a date." Frank added.

"Hey. Sorry if I don't want to listen to my brother get intimate while I'm watching The Mandalorian." Gerard scoffed, taking another bite of pistachio ice cream.

"Mikes is passed out, Gee. And besides, you make him listen to-" Ray tried to argue, but Frank and Gerard both gave him a look that silenced him.

In Mikey's room, Pete laid Mikey gently on the bed and tried to avoid tripping on his stuff to find a place on the floor to sleep. A bass guitar, amps, cords, books, and various things were placed strategically and frighteningly around the room. His desk was covered in paper and pens and notebooks. Pete was walking through a minefield.

Eventually, he found a place to lay, but as soon as he did, Mikey sat up.

"What're you doing?" He whispered.

"Oh, I was just gonna-"

"You don't have to sleep on the floor." He scooched over, making room for Pete. "And there's, um, pajamas and stuff in the second drawer. It's dark in here, if you wanted to change."

Pete nodded hesitantly, before pulling a pair of red basketball shorts out of the drawer and changing into them. He took his sweater off, revealing his Bob Dylan shirt. When he awkwardly approached the bed, Mikey had pulled on pajama pants from the floor and gotten under the covers. Pete stood by the side of the bed, unsure of how to proceed. Mikey laughed softly, set his glasses on the nightstand, and pulled the covers back for Pete. Pete laid down, keeping a healthy distance out of fear of crossing a line.

Once again, Mikey laughed softly, and wiggled closer to Pete, laying his head on his chest.

"I really like you." He whispered.

"I really like you too." Pete responded, turning to look down at him.

"You know what would piss my brother off and simultaneously get you a second date?"

"Hm?"

"If you just, like, were my boyfriend." Mikey said nonchalantly. "I mean, I don't know jack shit about you other than that your name is Pete Wentz, we're the same age, you're a gemini, you're super fucking emo, and you're hot, and I don't want to speak for you but I fully intended on being your boyfriend eventually. Why not just speed things up?"

"Wow, Way, on the first date?" Pete laughed dryly. On one hand, having someone he was enamoured with also be enamoured with him was not really something he could afford to sacrifice, but he was also pretty sure he was too insecure for commitment. "You know what? Let's do it. I'm your boyfriend now."

"Fuck yeah. My boyfriend." Mikey hummed. For the next unintelligible amount of time, they shared little facts about each other and endearing and embarrassing anecdotes from their childhoods until they fell asleep. Mikey first, in the comfort of his bed and his boyfriend, and Pete next, in the comfort of Mikey's comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not great sorry


End file.
